'Utah nice' only gets you so far
At about 1 a.m., I hopped aboard one of Sundance's constantly orbiting shuttles to get back to the parking lot where my car was waiting.
The bus was packed with bleary eyed and, in a few cases, pleasantly plastered festival goers. I was standing crammed amid a crowd of LA and New York film industry types at the front doors.
They were in awe of our bus driver who was making unscheduled stops to drop folks close to their condos and a couple of times picked up a people who staggered out of the darkness far from the shuttle stops.
When the bus was at capacity and a little more, he saw a quartet of stranded film revelers ahead.
"Do you want me to pick these guys up?" he yelled to the bus at large. "Can you squeeze in a little more or do you want me to keep on going?"
A blonde from LA, who was perched on top of the "This is not a seat" box behind the driver, looked at him in wonder and said, "What? We actually get to vote on what the bus driver does? People at Sundance are sooo nice."
It got a big laugh.
On the other hand, the Utah-nice driver, with his considerate stops, took about 45 minutes to get me from Main Street to Sundance HQ where my car was parked.
BTW, we voted NOT to let those guys on the bus.